Rewrite Again
by Lone.L
Summary: Postseries.  As the human world continues its fall into rottenness, a higher power decides to let a select few people do it all over again.  A clean slate, a new life, a chance to make all right.


I finally get around to writing a DN story/sequel. I hope you all enjoy, because I sure as hell will. And the usual disclaimer, DN isn't mine.

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**Rewrite//Again [ Prologue: Bust**

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J a n u a r y 4 

2 0 1 4

"What are your thoughts, Mr. Aizawa?"

The Japanese man, looking quite dignified as the NPA Chief with neatly cut hair and a good goatee, pondered for the slightest moment, his dark eyes drawing closed until they were nearly shut. He allowed the mechanized voice emitting from the screen behind him, solid white with a single letter in the center, to echo throughout his thoughts for a moment before sitting up.

The faces of all his most trusted colleagues and comrades were focused on him, each looking determined and convinced as they only had during a different, darker time: Touta Matsuda, Kanzo Mogi, Hideki Ide and even young Hiroshi Yamamoto. The look in their eyes matched Aizawa's, and there was no doubt amongst them all what the answer would be.

"I think it's pretty clear, L. With the facts you've given us, I'd have to say that this is the truth behind the matter, and it is up to us to stop it."

"I agree," came the voice, appreciation somehow detectable in the mechanical voice, "And I must inform you all now that I will personally accompany you to the site we have determined."

"Personally?!" the replies full of surprise came from all over the room.

"Yes."

"Why?" Aizawa asked, the voice for the rest.

There was a slight pause during which no sounds could be heard. After those few quiet moments and something akin to a shuffling, a response finally came.

"I will contact you later with the final details on this case."

A _bip_ and the screen faded out, going black, leaving the bewildered inspectors to speculate amongst themselves. What they had just been witness to was shocking—there were few things imaginable that could convince L to show up in person for any given event, and each had their ideas of what they were. As Yamamoto speculated out loud, Matsuda doing the same, Mogi, Ide and Aizawa remained silent. Mogi not saying anything was by no means a rare occurrence, and it was more than likely true that Ide just did not know what to say...but Aizawa had a single idea, more than likely correct, and he understood. Placing his palms on his desk, he pushed himself into a standing position and moved around it into the open space the others were standing in. All turned their eyes to him.

"He'll probably get back to us later, or maybe even tomorrow. What do you say we go grab for some coffee?"

A resounding chorus of ayes followed, none louder than Matsuda's, and the gathering dutifully exited the room, their fine shoes tapping dutifully against the tiled floor as they made their way to the elevator, re-emerging on the first floor and departing the NPA offices, headed out into the cold.

. … …… … …… … .

With a faded look in his eyes belying his acute nature, Nate River leaned back in his chair, his left knee bent fully and held close to his face while his other dangled off the edge. He had only to review his facts one more time and book a flight, and things would be underway. As he sat, he nearly drifted off into silent thought before a _bip _sounded before him, signaling the coming-to-life of the screen in front of him. Near glanced at the Olde English **W **as the speakers began.

"L, you said that a large sum of money is to be transferred in four days, yes?"

"That is correct."

"The result of extortions conducted through legitimate business deals that subtly built debt that would _have_ to be repaid, under duress if necessary?"

"Yes."

"And..."

"It is an organized crime ring conducting it, yes. An extension of the American mafia, to be exact."

"Is that why..."

Near sighed, reaching out to pick up a plastic transforming toy from the table beside him. His eyes rolled over its red head and large yellow fists from under his curly white hair as his mind went to work. It was a foregone conclusion, and even Watari knew it. For whose sake he was asking, Near did not know.

"Yes, Roger. That is why I am going personally."

. … …… … …… … .

J a n u a r y 8

2 0 1 4

The sounds of shuffling carried loud and clear over the networking system of microphones and earpieces attached to each suit of flak gear being worn as the members participating in the bust readied themselves to storm the warehouse. The building itself was simple and compact, just a 600 square foot warehouse with a white exterior consisting of old chipped paint and a dirty, dark interior with one floor and a single overhead light. The floor itself was a brownish red hue; whether it was dirt, rust, or some mixture altogether was indeterminable. There were no cameras around the entire perimeter, inside or out. The entire place was oddly reminiscent of the Yellow Box Warehouse, though they did their best not to think of that anymore, after three years.

The warehouse was situated on the side of a cliff, three of its sides facing the road and the right side facing out towards the water of Tokyo Bay. There were no mafia watchmen in sight when they had arrived, and the space on the right side was deemed too tight to fit without the force thoroughly checking the area.

Those present outside the warehouse included Matsuda, Aizawa, Mogi, Yamamoto, eight men from various other NPA departments and Near. Ide was stationed further back as a watchman, in case anything imaginable went wrong.

"Is everyone ready?" Near asked monotonously. All replied in the affirmative. "Good, then let's move out. Don't forget, when you storm in, ensure that any who are holding guns drop them."

"Alright," Aizawa replied. He then produced a second gun, holding it out to Near. "Take this, you might need it."

"No thank you, Mr. Aizawa. I'm not fond of guns."

Resigning himself to the fact that he would not be able to persuade him, Aizawa retracted the offer and readied himself.

When all were in position, he threw the door open and they charged in with Mogi in the lead.

As they had suspected, the deal was in fact underway. Immediately, Mogi, Aizawa, Yamamoto and six of the other men brought their guns up and trained them on the various people near the center of the room—the one receiving the money, the one behind him and several ones against the wall. The other two men made their way in and moved to the sides, searching for any hidden mobsters, while Near and Matsuda remained in the doorway, watching.

"Don't move!" Aizawa shouted. All action froze. "Aside from you, there, in the white—" he motioned to the one handing over money, the victim, "—you're all under arrest! Drop your weapons!" As far as he could see, at least five of the mobsters were holding them.

An eerie silence fell over the warehouse as all activity ceased, and mobsters began looking from each other to the police and back. It seemed as though both sides were waiting for the other to make a move. The scene began to seem surreal as no sounds permeated the area and action became a figment of the imagination.

A gunshot sounded suddenly, without warning. To much confusion, it did not come from inside the warehouse, but outside. Mogi and Aizawa turned to see Matsuda shaking, holding his gun out pointed towards the bay. He fired twice, then lowered his gun and dropped to his knees. Signaling to the eight other men to keep watch on the mobsters, Aizawa and Mogi dashed like hell was behind them to where Matsuda was, their mouths falling open in shock and disbelief as they reached the spot.

Near was on the ground, barely hanging onto consciousness, bleeding badly from his neck. "I...I..." was all he could mumble before he was lost to unconsciousness.

"Shit!" Aizawa exlaimed.

"There was a gangster...hiding on the side of the building facing the bay..." Matsuda spat out, shaken, "He must have been pressed tightly to fit, but...he came around the side and shot him, and then started running backwards. I shot him and...he fell off the cliff..."

"Dammit, call the plan off!" Aizawa yelled, "We have to get him to Ide, or in an ambulance, to a hospital! Forget taking prisoners! If they make a move, shoot 'em!

"L!" he called, almost screaming at the genius' prone body, "L! Near!"

With Mogi's help and Aizawa covering, he picked the young man up and moved him to the car Ide was waiting in, frantically searching once there for a phone to call an ambulance, looking for first aid, doing whatever he could, completely disregarding what was happening in the warehouse. In their time as police, the men had lost too many friends and allies like this, and he would be damned if he was going to let it happen again.

Nate River was pronounced dead at the hospital.

. … …… … …… … .

J a n u a r y 1 0

2 0 1 4

A thick feeling of somber anger and regret had fallen over the office by the time the screen in Aizawa's room lit up with a large** W**. Aizawa, Mogi, Ide, Matsuda and Yamamoto were all present.

"Watari..."

"I'm torn between seeing if the next possible successor at Wammy's House would like to take the role of L or we should suspend the position indefinitely."

"Don't bother," Aizawa returned, "It seems as if all who take on the title of L live short, unfulfilled lives." First there had been L, and now Near...the second L was a special case, and Aizawa pushed the thought out of his mind.

"But this could have been avoided!" Matsuda protested in an outburst.

"Perhaps it could have," Roger said quietly, his voice relaying as Watari, "But this was something Near wanted to do. I could not stop him."

"Why, though?"

_"Is that why..."_

_"Yes, Roger. That is why I am going personally."_

"...He...He wanted to do it...for Mello."

"W-What?" Aizawa stammered.

"He might not have told you, but during his investigations into the activities of these gangsters, Near came upon information that linked them without a doubt to the same mafia that Mello was involved in during the Kira case—" Roger continued on, despite the shudders the word Kira elicited from all present except Yamamoto, "—and suggesting even that some of the same gangsters who knew Mello were involved in this. It wasn't until after Mello's death that Near understood why I had asked them **both** to replace L, and he had since always regretted that Mello died for him, even if the Kira case couldn't have been solved otherwise."

"..."

"Near always believed that the mafia corrupted Mello, and that if he hadn't gotten involved with them things might have turned out differently. Near was as honor-bound as L himself was, and in his heart he believed that seeing through to the end of these gangsters was the only way to bring closure to Mello's life."

"I see..."

. … …… … …… … .

"Damn, the human world has gotten as boring and rotten as it is up here, these days."

"No doubt about that. Ever since they killed that human who got his hands on a Death Note, the place has been as bad as it always was."

"Yeah, I gotta admit, Ryuk did us a favor by dropping that Death Note. It at least gave us something to watch for a while."

"Speaking of Ryuk, has anyone seen him around?"

"Nah, I ain't seen the guy in a while."

"I actually heard he was summoned by the King."

"The King? No way!"

The desolate darkness, expansive yet confining gray sky and scraggy small cliffs littered about the area marked the place as the unmistakable Shinigami Realm. As far as the eye could see, twisted, frightening gods of death lay scattered around the dusty scene, gambling or laying around and wasting a few years of their infinitely expandable life.

In some undetermined corner of it all lay a massive throne, composed of nothing but gold and jewels, and on it sat the Shinigami King, whose face and body seemed to be conveniently obscured by a large shadow.

Ryuk stood at his feet, his large yellow eyes looking up with a nonchalant gaze, wings retracted into his back, hunched over as he often seemed to be. His mouth was open in a grin, more of the usual for him.

"Ryuk, I know we settled on this some time ago," the King's voice boomed, "But looking at the state of this place, I think I finally have to admit that what you did did at least _some _good, rather than just letting you off with a warning and ignoring it."

"That's good to hear, but I'm not sure why it matters," Ryuk responded, scratching his head.

"It is my understanding that you became quite attached."

"I don't think so..."

In some ways, though, it was true. Killing Yagami Light had only seemed logical to Ryuk, yet there was no denying that in the long time they knew each other, there was a friendship on some fundamental level. That was the _reason _he had killed him, the simple fact that he had promised him when they first met that he would, and promises are made to be kept. In addition, there was just no way out for Light, and being caught and confined and forced to face the truth would kill him inside, knowing his pride. Ryuk had killed him to save him the misery.

"Regardless, I think all of us up here would like to see that again."

"What are you suggesting?"

"That the whole human world is going to get a second chance at righting itself."

If it was or ever had been at all possible, Ryuk's eyes widened to more than their usual range as the King said this while reaching down to his side to bring forth an odd white pen decorated with swirls. Its tip was even stranger, just as white as the pen itself and with a wide, double-sided edge.

"You don't mean..."

"Yes," the King responded, "I think it'll be...fun."

"But if you do that and they do come back, you know what will happen to the human world."

"Of course I do, but let's face it, Ryuk. It's something you, among many others, have believed for a long time now: the human world is there for our entertainment, nothing more."

Reaching down again, the Shinigami King pulled up, laid out and opened a very interesting Death Note. Its cover was red, its pages larger than the average Death Note, its list of names unbelievably long. This particular Death Note was not written in; it was a log. The name of every human who was ever killed by a Death Note magically appeared in the note's pages when each death occurred, and it was a universal reference, nothing more...on most occasions. Flipping back one hundred pages or so, the King's bony finger came to rest on a single page that bore the names he was looking for.

He placed the white pen to the page and began whiting out a select few names one by one, carefully ensuring he was picking the correct ones. It didn't take long until he reached the end of his list. He pressed that white pen down twice more, whiting out the final names.

L Lawliet

Light Yagami.

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**A/N: **Long-ass prologue, I know. I hoped you enjoyed reading it anyway. Whether this idea has been done before or not doesn't matter, especially because I'm sure it has considering that the white-out idea came from the original DN short "Death Note Episode 00." Regardless, I hope to carry my story in a unique direction and I want you all along for the ride. 

If there's anything that confused you, ask me in a review and I'll get back to you, as I always respond to each reviewer. Hopefully you should have been able to deduce what the King was doing and what will happen. I apologize for killing Near...I liked him a lot myself...but I felt it necessary.

Review if you can, and stick with me through this. D

**LL**


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